


old and new

by Mysecretfanmoments



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, separate universities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysecretfanmoments/pseuds/Mysecretfanmoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You seem—sad.” Was that the right word? Others sprang to mind: desperate, lonely, anxious. </p>
<p>Tooru looked away. “Are you going to make me say it?”</p>
<p>“Say what?”</p>
<p>Tooru folded his arms, sighed. “I missed you, of course.”</p>
<p>Hajime swallowed.</p>
<p>“No need to look that way. I told you, I’m not one of your macho man buddies. I’m allowed to say stuff like that without being embarrassed—”</p>
<p>“You’re being ridiculous,” Hajime complained. “No need to be so defensive. I’ve missed you too.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Tooru seemed to get a little of his own back, leaning forward on his elbows. “What about me did you miss?”</p>
<p>((Going to separate universities, Hajime and Tooru learn the true meaning of "distance makes the heart grow fonder"))</p>
            </blockquote>





	old and new

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nanali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanali/gifts).



> Christmas traditions: surprising Nana with iwaoi fic. Written with all my love! I hope you enjoy~

“Tell me more,” Tooru crooned over the phone.

Hajime tried not to choke on his tongue. He didn’t think Tooru realized what he was doing, but if he did, he had more than a few things to explain to Hajime. Things like _why do you sound like a sex line operator when we talk on the phone at night_?

“That’s about it,” Hajime said. “The guys here are a lot more mature than our old team. Makes me sad, sometimes, but hey.” He grinned.

“Mm. I miss it too.”

Hajime sat up on his bed, knowing he hadn’t imagined that sultry tone. It happened on occasion, but tonight was the worst it had ever been. “Oikawa—” he began, then stopped. He could hardly say _you sound too sexy on the phone_ , could he? It would sound like he was calling Tooru sexy.

“What?”

_God_. That voice would make more sense if he was saying stuff like _tell me where you’re touching yourself_ , or whatever it was sex line operators were supposed to say. Was Hajime just weak?

“Nothing,” he said, frustrated. They’d be seeing each other soon when school got out for winter break. It would be the first time in months, and Hajime was sure that Tooru wouldn’t sound like that face-to-face. He was probably just sleepy, or something, and Hajime was hearing what he wanted to hear.

He missed Tooru. A lot. He missed their physical proximity and the way his body felt lighter with Tooru nearby. He didn’t need hugs or kisses or sex—he told himself he didn’t—but Tooru nearby wasn’t too much to ask for, surely. They called every night and had the same group of friends. It stood to reason they’d spend most of break together, didn’t it?

“What are you thinking about?” Tooru asked, right on point.

“Winter break. You?”

There was a smile in Tooru’s voice. “Me too.”

Hajime lay back down, curling up around the butterflies in his stomach. Missing and wanting were his constant companions these days, but now the wait was almost over. A strange nervousness filled him at the thought of seeing Tooru again. What if everything had changed? These phone calls were sort of new; their conversations had become more intimate since a few months after they went to different universities. What if they’d forgotten how to be around each other, even if they had so much to say on the phone?

“And now?” Tooru asked.

Hajime grunted. “Are you going to be like this for all of break?”

“Maybe,” Tooru said. “Depends on how much you distract me.”

Hajime’s eyes flew open. That was flirting. It _had_ to be—and yet, he and Tooru didn’t flirt. They were teammates, best friends, and Hajime was nursing something that felt a lot like a crush—but they didn’t _flirt_.

He took calming breaths, forced himself to ignore it. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Camping.”

“In winter? We’ll freeze.”

“Right.” For a moment, Tooru sounded strange in a wholly new way—confused. “Right.”

“You all right?”

“I get to see you in a week,” Tooru said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Hajime didn’t remark on the strange tone of voice—no longer sexy—or how the old Tooru would never have been so openly affectionate. He would have taken it all back somehow with a flippant comment about how he needed Hajime to walk beside him so he’d look better by comparison, or something. The old patterns were eroding, and the new ones hadn’t fully formed.

Hajime couldn’t help wondering—and sometimes dreading—what those new patterns would look like.

 

 

 

Tooru lay the phone down, sighing as he curled into a tighter comma on his bed. Good-nights were the worst. Good-nights meant going from a world where Hajime’s voice was seconds away to a world where he was a long train ride removed from his best friend entirely. They’d said good night a moment ago, and the line was dead.

The distance between them sucked. No amount of affection for his new and interesting university friends could quite make up for it.

“Iwa-chan,” he said to his empty bedroom. “Please go out with me.”

It was stupid to fantasize about dating. In all likelihood being long-distance boyfriends would be just as torturous as being long-distance friends—maybe worse, because there would be more activities to miss doing together—but he couldn’t help wishing that he at least had the right to stay the night with Hajime. He wanted to sleep in the same room over break so that the words _good night_ lost their edge. A good night said in the same room was nothing at all; the touch of a hand could break it.

Sometimes he fantasized about Hajime on top of him, or beneath—but these days what he longed for most were the sleepovers they’d had as kids, when their time together had been utterly self-explanatory. It was getting harder and harder to keep the longing from his voice during their calls.

 

 

 

Hajime was a few minutes from the station when Tooru called his mobile. He sent an apologetic glance at the people around him and picked up, heedless of train etiquette.

“What is it?” he asked as quietly as he could.

“You’re on the train that comes in at four, right?”

“Yes,” he said. It was four already, but the train was _meant_ to come in at four. “But it’s—”

“It’s late!” Tooru said. Was he looking up at the board?

“I know. But only by a few minutes. You came down to the station to meet me?”

“Yes.”

“I do remember the way home, you know.”

“Good for you.” Wind whistled, wheels thunked. “Can you see the station yet?”

Hajime leaned forward, looked past leafless trees and frosty ground. “Yeah.”

Butterflies launched into flight in his stomach. He felt like an idiot, somehow, for responding like this. This was just Tooru waiting for him at the station. There was no need to feel nervous, or jittery, but he did. He ought to hang up the phone, but he didn’t, and Tooru didn’t either.

“I see your train,” Tooru said.

Hajime wasn’t sure what he was meant to say. Congratulations? This was inane. He needed to hang up.

He didn’t.

“What car are you in?” Tooru asked.

“I don’t know. Near the front.”

The train rolled into the station, and as it slowed to a crawl Hajime spotted Tooru on the platform, glancing at various doors as if guessing which one Hajime would come out of.

The doors opened, and Hajime made his way over.

“I’m stepping out now,” he said, glancing up to where he’d seen Tooru, and it only took another moment for them to spot each other, both of them clutching phones. “Hey,” he said stupidly, still out of earshot.

“Hello,” he heard Tooru say back via phone—Hajime saw the cloud of his breath in the cold air, still distant—and then they were putting their phones away and walking fast, and Tooru wrapped him in a hug that was more than just a clasping of arms, and Hajime hugged back hard.

“You didn’t have to come,” Hajime said as they pulled back, just to have something to say. He swallowed; it was too cold to stay out here staring. “Food?”

Tooru nodded. There was color in his face, and Hajime wondered if he was feeling nervous too. It had been such a long time since they’d been near each other, and they’d spoken so much since then. Seeing Tooru larger than life in front of him made him wonder who the person on the other end of the phone line was, and what he saw when he looked at Hajime.

“C’mon, then,” Hajime said, leading the way to a fastfood place near the station where they’d eaten many times before. Tooru played with his fries while Hajime dug into a burger, but after a while the burger was gone and Hajime still didn’t know what to say.

“You got in yesterday?” he tried at last.

Tooru nodded. “Makki tried to take me out drinking on my first night back. Brutish. And at the tender age of nineteen! He should be arrested.”

“You’ve been drinking at university though,” Hajime said, raising an eyebrow. He knew because Tooru had told him.

“Not much,” Tooru said. “And I get ridiculous headaches the next day, so it’s barely worth it. Not like I need the alcohol to be charming anyway.”

Hajime snorted, and Tooru kicked him.

“I mean it. Plus, I’m not an idiot who lets himself get into I’m-the-manliest-man drinking contests. Like alcohol tolerance proves anything!”

Hajime groaned at the memory of the few times he’d been suckered into showing his mettle by overindulging, and he regretted telling Tooru about those nights. Still, he had to defend his honor. “You just think it’s idiotic because you can’t win.”

“I don’t have the BMI of a gorilla, so no, I can’t win. It’s okay, Iwa-chan. I’m not judging you.”

“You just said I behaved like an idiot.”

Tooru set his chin in the palm of his hand and gazed at Hajime, exuding innocence. “Oh, right. I guess I did.”

This should have prompted an argument, but Hajime found himself smiling back. It was good to be here after all, even if everything felt different.

“What are you doing tonight?” Tooru asked abruptly.

“Uh—nothing. My parents will want to see me, but—”

“Come over after dinner?”

Hajime’s eyes narrowed. The pleading in Tooru’s tone was unmistakable. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem—sad.” Was that the right word? Others sprang to mind: _desperate, lonely, anxious_.

Tooru looked away. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Tooru folded his arms, sighed. “I missed you, of course.”

Hajime swallowed.

“No need to look that way. I told you, I’m not one of your macho man buddies. I’m allowed to say stuff like that without being embarrassed—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hajime complained. “No need to be so defensive. I’ve missed you too.”

“Oh?” Tooru seemed to get a little of his own back, leaning forward on his elbows. “What about me did you miss?”

“ _Not_ that tone of voice,” Hajime said pointedly, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Hmm… probably your game sense. Only your game sense.”

Tooru kicked him. “Shut up. You missed my face, didn’t you? Living away from me brings down the attractiveness average in your area, I’m sure.”

A year ago, Hajime might have kicked back and sworn that he hadn’t missed Tooru’s face in the least—but that need had dissipated. He _had_ missed Tooru’s face; he missed the way it was always changing, how expressive it was. He even missed Tooru’s look of utter disgust when he saw something—or someone—he hated.

“Iwa-chan? You went quiet.”

“Waiting for you to finish complimenting yourself. Done?”

“You could wait a lifetime for that. Are you going straight home?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’ll go with you. I haven’t seen your parents in ages.”

Hajime sighed. His mother would be so pleased to see Tooru again she’d hardly notice her own son, he was sure.

“Unless you don’t want me to?” Tooru asked suddenly, and the vulnerability in his manner cut into Hajime.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hajime said. “You’ll probably be the first person my mother asks about anyway: ‘ _did Tooru get in okay? When will you see him? Why isn’t he my son?_ ’”

Tooru grinned. “It’s because you don’t compliment her enough.”

“Why would I have to compliment her? She’s my mother, not my girlfriend.”

“Would you compliment your girlfriend?”

“What?” This was dangerously off track. “I don’t have one.”

“If you did, would you compliment her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Did you spend a lot of time complimenting yours?”

“Not enough, obviously,” Tooru said. He began moving out of the booth, and Hajime followed. “I’ve never managed to keep one.”

Hajime didn’t know how to reply to that, and so he didn’t. The thought of Tooru’s girlfriends made Hajime’s stomach clench. He’d never minded in high school—had even been able to joke about it with the rest of the team—but now thinking about Tooru’s romantic exploits made him feel empty.

He knew why; there was no point in dwelling on _why_. It was more important to think of how to prevent it from affecting him in the future. Maybe if they stopped calling so often, he’d stop feeling like Tooru belonged to him somehow.

They walked back to his house in silence, past familiar buildings and street signs, their breath misting the air. “We’re home,” they yelled in unison as they entered the warm house, and Hajime added: “Tooru’s here too.”

Tooru looked up. “You can call me that to my face too, you know, instead of just to other people.”

Hajime shrugged. It would be strange to call him _Tooru_ again, when he’d spent all of middle and high school calling him Oikawa.

“My boys!” Hajime’s mother emerged to greet them, hugging Hajime first and then Tooru.

“You look scruffy,” she said to Hajime, turning his face this way and that. “Don’t you think he looks scruffy?”

This last bit was aimed at Tooru, who grinned. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but…”

Hajime elbowed him. There had been no complaints about scruffiness so far, and Hajime remembered the strange brightness in Tooru’s eyes on the platform. Tooru didn’t care a whit about Hajime’s imperfect grooming habits—but he loved to gang up with Hajime’s mother regardless of what Hajime was being accused of.

“You’re staying for dinner, of course,” Hajime’s mother said, ushering them both in, and there was no more time to talk privately. She allowed Hajime to unpack a little, but spent the rest of the time quizzing both of them on their time at university, as if she hadn’t spoken to Hajime once a fortnight during term. Then again, she said she didn’t trust Hajime to tell her everything, and that was fair enough.

“And you’re still single?” she asked Tooru, brows arched.

“Mm-hmm.”

“No one on the horizon?”

Tooru seemed reluctant to answer, and Hajime raised an eyebrow.

“Who can say?” Tooru said at last, and Hajime saw the way Tooru drew himself up, smiling, suddenly oozing charm—a version of Tooru Hajime recognized but hadn’t seen in a while. It felt more like a smoke screen than ever.

Hajime’s mother gave him a knowing look. “It’s like that, hm? I’ll try not to believe what I see on TV about young people these days, for your sake.”

Tooru gasped a little. He turned to Hajime. “Iwa-chan! What is your mother accusing me of?”

“Leave me out of this,” Hajime said, looking between the two of them. He didn’t really want to be in a discussion about sexual promiscuity—with his mother _or_ Tooru, though he believed Tooru was less uninhibited than he’d like others to think.

At that point Hajime’s dad came home, and the process repeated itself through dinner, Hajime and Tooru withstanding the quizzing a second time—though Hajime’s father asked different questions, at least. Hajime was strangely relieved when it was time to clear away the plates.

“Ready to go to my house after this?” Tooru asked, glancing at him as they stacked used dishes by the sink.

“Yeah. Movies?”

Tooru nodded. “You’ll stay the night?”

Hajime tamped down on a sudden lance of _something_ in his stomach. It wasn’t just him reacting strangely; Tooru was weirdly tentative as well, and it only worsened Hajime’s nervousness.

How were they supposed to interact now that their friendship wasn’t just a given? Before, it had made sense to be friends—but now only shared experience pulled them together, and neither of them was the same as before. What was keeping them together now?

“Sure,” he said, and waited for Tooru’s reaction. It was a barely-there thing, only a tiny shifting of posture under yellow kitchen light—but Hajime recognized it nonetheless.

It was relief.

 

 

 

Their movie night went much like the old days, though Tooru was unusually accommodating during the movie selection process. Tooru’s mother came in during one of the films and ruffled Hajime’s hair, but she didn’t stay long, heading upstairs to bed after a short conversation. They were alone in the living room, and then they were alone in Tooru’s bedroom, and being alone was familiar and new at the same time.

Hajime lay with his hands behind his head on the futon beside Tooru’s bed, fitting himself into a relaxed posture that didn’t feel quite natural at the moment. Tooru lay on his side on the bed above him, his head propped up on a hand. When Hajime glanced up at him, he realized Tooru was gazing back.

“What?” Hajime asked, glad to have something to ask about.

“It’s nostalgic, right? Staying the night?”

He executed a laying-down-shrug. “I’m sure you have people stay over all the time.”

“Huh? Like for sex?”

Blood rushed to Hajime’s face. “No! I meant—it just works out that way, doesn’t it? Someone drinks too much, or doesn’t feel like going home, and they crash on your floor… no?”

Tooru’s nose wrinkled. “No. I hate having people stay overnight.”

Hajime waited for him to realize what he’d said, and laughed when it finally dawned on him. Tooru held up a hand.

“I meant other students. Unplanned stay-overs. You know. This is different. I invited you, and you’re not drunk. Really, even you ought to see the difference.”

“Mm,” Hajime said. “It’s super obvious, yeah. This is definitely not me staying overnight.”

“It’s different because it’s you,” Tooru snapped. “So to reply in full: no, I don’t have people over all the time.”

“Not even for sex?” Hajime asked before he could stop himself. Once the words were out, he wished he could take them back. Tooru hadn’t mentioned any conquests, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t happened. Hajime didn’t want any confirmation on that front.

“You asking for gory details?” Tooru asked. His voice was teasing, but his smile was tight.

“No thanks. You can keep those to yourself.”

They both lay back down, and Hajime regretted bringing up sex. Somehow, though they’d discussed it plenty in high school, it felt out of bounds now.

“What about you?” Tooru mumbled, almost too softly to hear.

“Gory details?”

“Yeah.”

Hajime huffed. “Too bad. Unfortunately for you, my exciting party lifestyle mostly involves drunk guys passed out on my floor.”

“You always were better with guys,” Tooru said, moving to the edge of the bed to gaze down at Hajime again. “I’m still surprised though.”

Hajime wondered if Tooru understood how _you’re better with guys_ sounded. “Why are you surprised?”

“Sometimes on the phone, you’d gloss over things. I thought it might be that.”

“You didn’t think I’d brag about it if I took someone home?”

“Not to me.”

“Well, thanks. For the record, I wouldn’t brag to anyone.”

Tooru’s eyes searched his face. “Good to know.”

Again Hajime felt his cheeks tingle, and he wondered what that searching look meant. He knew how he felt, and he knew Tooru was always the first to call, but it would take more than that to make the leap to _it’s mutual_. And even if it was mutual, what was he supposed to do?

“Hajime?”

“Mm?” Hajime rolled onto his side, feeling too vulnerable on his back. He met Tooru’s gaze. The unguarded look on Tooru’s face pulled at Hajime, making him want to do things he wasn’t brave enough to do. Tooru was handsome. Usually Hajime thought of him as ‘annoyingly handsome’, owing to Tooru’s tendency to brag, but there was nothing irritating about him right now. Hajime wondered if his hair would be soft like a girl’s, wondered if kissing him would feel anything like half-drunk kisses with girls at parties.

He had a feeling kissing Tooru would be nothing like that.

Tooru looked away, but the spell didn’t break. Hajime’s gaze was drawn to Tooru’s wrist, Tooru’s fingers.

“I don’t know how to ask,” Tooru said.

“Ask what?”

Tooru fell back against the bed, groaning. “It’s hopeless.”

Hajime sat up, resting his elbows on Tooru’s mattress. “ _What’s_ hopeless?”

Tooru raised an eyebrow at Hajime’s sudden proximity, and Hajime knew he was about to become combative; he saw it in his slightly narrowed eyes. Tooru’s tendency to lash out when he felt vulnerable wasn’t new to him.

“Oh?” Tooru said in a falsely flattered voice, mocking. “Are you going to join me in the bed, Iwa-chan?”

“Do you want me to?” Hajime asked plainly, in his best I’m-not-letting-you-goad-me voice. The superior look dropped off Tooru’s face; his mouth opened but no words came out, not for a while. He got his bearings, then:

“Yes.”

For a moment, Hajime wanted to ask if he was serious—and then Tooru backed up in the bed, making space, and Hajime had his answer. He crawled up gingerly, pulling back the thick winter covers until he was tucked inside. The spot was warm from Tooru’s body heat.

“This is unexpected,” Tooru said, his voice cracking.

“Yeah.”

They lay opposite each other, eyes locked. It occurred to Hajime that this probably meant something, and only two explanations came to him: either Tooru liked him back, or something was wrong.

“Are you depressed?” Hajime asked.

Tooru’s eyes widened in surprise. “Eh?”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.”

“So you’re fitting in at university, and not just pretending to be happy so I don’t worry?”

“I’m not pretending,” Tooru said. “What is this, an intervention?”

Hajime shook his head. “No. Just asking.”

“Wait—you think I want you to stay over because I’m sad? Lonely?”

“It was an option.” Why did he feel embarrassed? It wasn’t such a weird explanation for Tooru’s behavior, was it?

Tooru rolled onto his back, covering his face with both his hands. “Unbelievable,” he said through them.

“If you were in my position, you’d worry too.”

“Oh?” Tooru uncovered his face. “Are you sad, then, Iwa-chan?”

“No.”

“So you’re going along with whatever I want because you think I might be?”

Hajime took his time answering. “No,” he said eventually. He wanted to be with Tooru as much as he could, as close as he could. He hadn’t yet decided to increase the distance between them, and somehow it felt as if he should enjoy this closeness while he could.

Tooru rolled unexpectedly, pushing Hajime down and hovering partially over him. “What if this is what I want?”

Hajime got the impression Tooru was trying to intimidate him—and he felt a lot of things with Tooru on top of him, but _intimidated_ wasn’t one. He pretended not to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“ _This_ what? You’ll have to give me more context.”

Several expressions flitted past—disbelief, hope, vulnerability—until Tooru’s face finally settled on annoyance. He glared at Hajime for a moment longer—and then his head dipped low.

Hajime felt Tooru’s breath against his mouth, lips brushing lips. Tooru’s free hand touched the side of his face, their bodies pressing together where Tooru’s weight rested. It was an almost-kiss, and not like kissing strangers at parties at all. It took his breath away, made him long to pull Tooru down—but Tooru pulled back up, looking vindictive.

“Well?” he said. “Planning on going along with it now?”

“Yeah,” Hajime said, voice rough. “Yeah, if that’s what you want.”

“You don’t understand,” Tooru said. “I don’t just mean sex, not just once, not like an outlet—”

“I didn’t realize rolling on top of someone was _sex_ ,” Hajime said, to disguise the nervousness he felt. The way Tooru was talking seemed to suggest they could have sex, here, tonight, if Hajime said the right things. The thought made him feel hopelessly inexperienced; wondering what his best friend looked like during sex was no preparation at all for actually having sex with his best friend.

“The phonecalls,” Tooru said, ignoring Hajime. “I hate them.”

“Then don’t call me—”

“I don’t mean like that, I mean—I hate that they’re phonecalls. I hate not getting to be with you anymore.”

Hajime stopped trying to joke, seeing the way Tooru’s eyebrows had drawn together. He propped himself up on an arm and touched Tooru’s hair lightly, moving it out of his face.

“I think of you all the time, you know,” he said. “Probably more than when we went to school together.”

“Are you saying being away from me made you like me more?” Tooru said. “Because that’s not funny. I’m being serious here. I like you. I want to be with you.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Hajime said. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him; he couldn’t quite process what Tooru had just said despite the hints that had piled up. “It just made me realize things. Do you know you sound like a sex line person on the phone?”

Tooru jumped. “ _What?!_ ”

“Not always. Sometimes. I wondered if you were doing it on purpose.”

“So you started liking me because I sound sexy on the phone?”

“ _No_. God, Oikawa, I just like you anyway. I don’t know why it’s clearer now than before; it just is. I wasn’t going to act on it, but if you’re sure, I’m sure.”

“Isn’t that sort of cowardly?”

Hajime smiled, looking down at Tooru, glancing up and down the length of the bed. “Am I disappointing you in bed already?”

Tooru let his head drop back as he laughed, the way Hajime had hoped he would. Hajime’s gaze was drawn to Tooru’s neck, and he wondered if he’d be kissing it one of these days. The thought was odd—but not unpleasant.

Very not unpleasant. There was so _much_ of Tooru to explore; it was Hajime’s first time considering Tooru’s height that way, and it sent a wave of heat through him.

“Hajime,” Tooru said seriously, sobering instantly. “I want you to call me by my first name now. If we’re going to date I’m not going to let you call me by my family name like a stranger—”

“What if I call you Tooru when you’re especially good?”

Tooru looked annoyed. “We both know that’s rarely going to happen, so—”

It was Hajime’s turn to laugh, though he tried to muffle it into the pillow. Tooru being honest was funnier than Tooru trying to be funny.

“It’s not like you to be so self-deprecating,” Hajime said when he could breathe.

“Well, you never think I’m being good.”

“I didn’t mean good like _on Santa’s nice list_ ,” Hajime said, quirking an eyebrow, and Tooru’s mouth opened.

“Oh,” he said, coloring. “That sort of good. It’s your fault; you never _sound_ like you’re flirting.”

“Sorry. It’s not like I have much experience.”

Delight overtook embarrassment. “I get to be your first?”

“We’re discussing that, yeah.”

Tooru pushed at him until he was lying on his back, then straddled his waist. He pulled at Hajime’s shirt until it came off, saying, “The great Iwaizumi Hajime, all mine—the pride of all Seijou, conqueror of boys’ hearts everywhere—”

“You make me sound like a pervert.”

“No, I mean like—boys have crushes on you. Obviously. But they don’t get to see this.” Tooru splayed his fingers across Hajime’s bare chest, looking down in satisfaction.

“I take my shirt off in front of people all the time,” Hajime said.

Tooru sighed. “Let me have my moment of glory, okay?”

Hajime gazed up in amusement, but he said no more. Tooru did look pretty glorious up there, soft hair falling forward a little, face triumphant. The room wasn’t warm, but Hajime didn’t feel the least bit cold; he wasn’t sure he could with Tooru’s hands on his bare skin.

“Go out with me,” Tooru said, dragging his eyes up from Hajime’s chest. “Please.”

“Yeah,” Hajime said. He was embarrassed by how husky his voice sounded. “Of course.”

Tooru bent down, cradling his face, and finally that almost-kiss led up to something more. Tooru’s lips were soft, his breath minty, his mouth warm. The sweep of Tooru’s tongue made shivers run down Hajime’s spine. It was impossible, surely, for Tooru to kiss him like this—but Hajime’s body insisted it was real, happening, not his imagination. It responded to Tooru’s kissing with a rapidity that would have made him self-conscious if Tooru didn’t seem just as lost as he felt. A war waged in Hajime, his longing split in two: one half insisting he ought to rip Tooru’s pajamas off right now, and the other insisting he ought to take it slow.

He wanted to do so much—everything. He had permission to do what he wanted now, or at least permission to ask.

Tooru broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Hajime’s, breathing hard.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Tooru said. “You’re so…”

“So what?”

“Real,” Tooru finished lamely. “The you in my fantasies sort of fades in and out of focus.”

Hajime breathed a laugh. “Hope he’s not better at stuff than me.”

“He’s very well-endowed,” Tooru said without a trace of embarrassment. “Honestly, if your dick was that big in real life, I’d worry. That’s why it’s a fantasy.”

Hajime groaned. Tooru was strangely prim, sometimes, but it seemed like a filter had broken sometime earlier tonight.

“He’s self-lubricating, too,” Tooru said, watching for a reaction.

“Maybe you should date him,” Hajime said, squirming a little beneath Tooru. The things Tooru was saying suggested he’d fantasized about a lot of different things, and it was making Hajime’s underwear feel too tight. A _lot_ too tight. How could Tooru just admit to this?

“I’m sure you’ll live up to his legend somehow,” Tooru said. He trailed a finger under Hajime’s jaw, eyelids lowered as he observed Hajime’s response. Hajime had never felt quite so at someone else’s mercy.

Hajime let out a rattling breath. “We need to slow down.”

“We need to, or you want to?”

“Not sure.”

Tooru moved off him, laying down next to him again. “I guess I can wait to deflower you,” he said. “Take my time.”

“Please don’t call it that.”

Tooru smiled, one hand coming up to touch Hajime’s face. “You’ll give me time, right?”

“I plan to,” Hajime said. Would he think he’d imagined all this when he woke up tomorrow? Would Tooru remind him he hadn’t?

What would it be like, waking up beside Tooru and knowing he could touch him? Knowing his affection was welcome?

“I’ll be good tonight, I guess,” Tooru said. His face was flushed. “The _Santa’s nice list_ kind of good.”

Hajime smiled wryly. He didn’t exactly want Tooru to keep his hands off, but he didn’t want to move too fast either. He wanted to savor this—the tension between him and Tooru, the longing to touch.

“This bed isn’t big enough to be totally good,” Hajime said. “Should I go back d—”

“No! Stay here. It’s big enough.”

Tooru sounded so earnest, Hajime couldn’t even turn it into a joke. He raised his brows.

“We only have winter break together right now,” Tooru mumbled. “I don’t want to be further from you than I have to be.”

“You really missed me, huh?”

Tooru glared, but then he moved into the crook of Hajime’s arm, resting his head on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Hajime wasn’t sure how to react to this version of Tooru—this openly affectionate version who barely teased, who was honest, who needed to be close. He thought the teasing might come back with time, when things felt less new.

He closed his eyes, trying to force this moment into his long term memory by sheer force of will. _In this moment, I was happy_ , he told his future self to remember. Tooru’s breath gusted across his pectoral, raising the hair on his arms.

“Should I put my shirt back on?” he asked into the quiet, feeling very naked. Tooru was still fully clothed.

“No,” Tooru said, throwing one of his legs over Hajime’s.

Hajime suppressed the flutters in his stomach and tried not to laugh. _The great Iwaizumi Hajime_ , indeed. He’d never let Tooru forget he’d called him that once. He couldn’t wait to hold it over Tooru’s head when Tooru teased him about some other thing, pretending he only kept Hajime around so he’d look better by comparison.

Hajime couldn’t wait for a lot of things—but he would, because those things were worth waiting for.


End file.
